


Hate And Bad Temper

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Series: The Things I Hate About You [5]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Insert, F/M, Tis quite platonic tbh, and slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: A drabble-y take on the fifth line, technically fifth but actually forth hated thing, of the poem in the film 10 Things I Hate About You."I hate your big dumb combat boots"





	Hate And Bad Temper

**Author's Note:**

> Askfnsuendn how does one make a summary?  
> I know, it's confusing and it doesnt make sense but the poem 10 things i hate about you actually states more than ten things sooooooooo, i just expanded them for more drabbles  
> Yep?  
> Yep.  
> I apologize for typos.  
> xxx

_I hate your big dumb combat boots_

* * *

I had been managing the squad of American, Russian, and German likeness. To be more precise, I was managing a squad of _children._

An explosion was heard from behind our fleeing figures. Agent Teller was frantically waiting for Solo, Kuryakin, and I to enter the delivery truck she hijacked. I panted and jumped inside the back of the vehicle. Illya and Napoleon were quick to follow. _"DRIVE!"_ I groaned out as I landed gracelessly on my chest, package secured in my clutches.

The sound of gun shots were gladly returned by the two male agents who had their guns out and heads down. There were two--make that _one_ motorcycle, and a car tight on our tail. The French agents were quite pissed that we took their beloved package, containing a contraption whose use I had yet to learn. I shuffled in my place. I winced as I crawled to Gaby who had one hand on the wheel and one holding a phone for me. I grabbed the phone, exchanging the package. She placed the brown paper covered box on the vacant seat next to her as another explosion went off from behind us.

_Well, they were dangerous children._

 

"We have the package, Waverly. We're heading for the secured location." I forced out in a loud tone over the sound of shattering glass and screams.

I was pulled down by my black belt that helped put together my black jumpsuit attire. It's what made it evident we four were in fact a team. "Get down, unless you want to collect bullets in your insides," Napoleon glared. He continued firing at the French attackers, and took down their motorcycle. It enabled Illya to take down the driver of the black car too close to us. He huffed out in relief. I wiped my face and rolled my eyes. "Amen." I spoke, turning to the two handsome men who now leaned back against the surface I was leaning on, sandwiching me in their biceps. Of course me thinking of them being handsome was something I wouldn't go around jumping at the opportunity to say. Heaven knows Napoleon would become ten times more cocky than he already was now.

"Gaby, take a left turn there. We need to lose the truck."

 

She did as I said, and us four ditched the truck. We stole a police car stupidly parked in the sketchy alley, then headed off to our location. Napoleon called dibs and drove, Gaby sat next to her and Illya and I sat back in silence. As we drove off, scolding Napoleon who had a hoot at sounding the sirens, realization struck me.

"Gaby! Where's the-" "Package?" Illya spoke, holding up the largish box with his largish hand. "You really shouldn't forget these sort of things,  _devushka_." He smirked. I rolled my eyes at him. "Call me girl again and I will show you how a girl fights." I hissed, grabbing the wrapped in brown paper item from him.

"Oooh, someone's angry." Napoleon sniggered. He turned to me from the reflection on the rear-view mirror. I bit my tongue this time around, knowing the two men would gang up on me like the always did, and I had no patience to deal with that now. Gaby did me a favor though, and punched Napoleon's shoulder, producing an audible thud. _"Ouch."_ The blue eyed man spoke flatly, raising his eyebrows at the brunette.

 _But these agents were children, nonetheless._

 

The drive was quick and silent. The moment we arrived at the empty, once opium infested but now abandoned apartment complex, we settled ourselves in the last room on the top floor. The men immediately patrolled the premise. Gaby and I, however, went to the living room. I placed the package on a dusty coffee table lazily kept as the cynosure of the place. We lazily plopped on the old, creaky couch, allowing a smoke of dust erupt around us. We swatted the flakes away, coughing as we did. Both men made their way back and forced us to scooch over. The moment the two sat, the couch came crumbling down, causing an alarming noise sound through the entire place.

We four sat there in frustration. "Wonderful." I spoke up, bitterly. I pushed myself off of the broken surface and examined the package, its corners were slightly tared and had black smudges all over.

"Waverly better hurry up or else I'm ripping that thing open." Napoleon shared, cocking his head at the seemingly unimportant-ly, tiny thing that somehow meant life or death. "I don't think that's a good idea. He told us not to open it. Plus, he said it contained something crucial." Gaby protested. I huffed a chuckle, "Or, we could just open it," I spoke as my hand reached out for the package. "Regardless of whether or not Waverly is-" I stopped myself as my side collided with a solid object that fell on the floor.

I groaned at the feeling, cupping the part of me that was so rudely hit. I saw a crusty combat boot by my feet, and I turned to the three beings on the couch. Two of which turned to the man in between them with slight wide eyes. The man in the middle, whose left foot was only in a sock, stood from where he sat and took a step towards me. "Don't open the package."

Illya threw me a glare like daggers. "You don't know what's in there."

I portrayed an annoyed look. "Don't even touch it." the man added with his heavy Russian accent. I scoffed. " _In ces you'f forgottn, I'f been totching the peckaczh all nyt!"_ I spoke, imitating his blasted accent.

 

He rolled his eyes, causing me to sneer. I moved closer, in hopes of intimidating the man, "And did you really just throw your boot at me?" Twas in vain, obviously, for I was to forever be too many inches too short for six foot five gargantuan. He chuckled dryly at my words. He towered over me, like someone would a child. He bent down a little, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. "I don't know." He huffed. "Did I?" He smirked.  _"Devushka."_

I clenched my jaw.  _Oh, he asked for it._

I punched him square on his right cheek bone and sent him walking back in return. He doze off for a moment, but I wasted no time in delaying my assault. I tackled him, his back falling against the wall close to the couch the two others sat. They moved away from my in coming destruction and I swear I heard them laugh at the sight we gave. I slammed the Russian's shoulders against the surface and moved to the his side, kneeing the back of his knee, causing him to fall and grunt in response. He had gathered himself up at this point, however, and grabbed my arms before I could continue. He pulled me in front of him, just as he stood up. He then spun us around. He pinned me against the wall, a furious face was plastered on him. He was supposed to speak, but my quick advance beat him to it. Using all my strength, including a push from a foot against the wall to my back, I sent the man and myself crashing down. I caused a painful noise to erupt from his lips, but I felt no such pity. My hands had pinned his wrist against the floor on either side of his head, and I was supposed to speak up my victorious speech.

Sadly, I was cut off by the sound of a the door opening and a British accent speaking.

 

"Congratulations, my agents. I-" but his congrats were cut short as the man, who was Alexander Waverly, saw the sight of the slightly damaged room and myself on top of the Russian.

All of a sudden, I was flipped over and my wrists were in turn pinned on either side of my head. The blonde smirked in victory. He muttered a soft but quite audible statement, causing my cheeks and face to heat up in reaction. _"I actually prefer being on top."_

With that, Napoleon broke into a fit of soft giggles, causing all of us to turn to him, causing me to send him a death glare.

A huff was sounded, soon after a tired voice spoke, "Children. _Bloody Children."_


End file.
